My Brother
by Alcarin Elen
Summary: On the anniversary of Finduilas' death, Boromir has a much needed talk with Faramir.


**A/N:** I may be taking a bit of liberty with just how much Boromir is able to remember of his mother. A ten-year-old is able, however, to remember a surprising amount of information when called upon, and since that was Boromir's age at the death of Finduilas, I am depending upon his ability to remember her.

* * *

Faramir had been crying. Boromir could tell that without even looking at his little brother. Throughout the course of their lives, Boromir had become adept at deciphering Faramir's emotions. What he had not yet been able to perfect was the ability to know why Faramir felt the way he did. But he always knew when Faramir needed him, even if the two were not in each other's company. Today, of course, he knew the root of Faramir's anxiety. It was the anniversary of Mother's death, and neither Faramir nor Father had forgotten that.

And now, as Boromir watched his little brother's target practice, it was easy to see that his brother was struggling with his emotions. The sons of one of the most powerful men in Middle Earth, Boromir and Faramir knew how to shield their emotions from the prying gazes of others. Faramir was experienced in this field, and Boromir could tell that he was protected from the suspicions of the others in the practice field.

Boromir, however, was not just one of the other men in the field. He was Faramir's big brother and best friend, and he had a lifetime of practice when it came to Faramir. Faramir's back was more stiffly arched than normal; his back leg was turned behind him further than usual; his elbow was held higher than usual; his fingers were releasing the arrows more quickly than usual, and without the usual care. Boromir noted with pride, however, that despite Faramir's purposefully poor form, he was still the foremost archer on the range.

"Little Brother!" Boromir saluted him, "spare your bow for a brother!" Faramir's shoulder's stiffened, and he sighed audibly before relaxing and turning to face his brother. His face was the stoic mask that Boromir hated with a passion. "What do you say you let up on your practice for one evening? No one will be able to become your equal overnight."

Faramir shook his head and turned back to resume his shooting, but Boromir reached out and grabbed his elbow. "That wasn't a suggestion. Put your bow down and come with me. You are going to enjoy this night." Faramir raised his elbow from Boromir's grasp, as if he was going to fight him, but then he relinquished.

Boromir put one arm firmly around Faramir's shoulders, and he reached over with the other and plucked the bow from Faramir's hands and deposited on the rack. "You and I are going for a night out, and you are going to tell me whatever is on your mind." He steered his little brother towards the "Rat's Tail Inn," which was famed amongst the soldiers of Gondor not only for its superior brew but also for its large population of rodents.

Inside the inn, Boromir seated his little brother at their favorite table, far in the shadows of the room, and sat down across from him. He motioned a waitress over and ordered two of their strongest drinks and then nestled down in his seat, fixing Faramir with an unbending stare. Faramir stared back uncomfortably at his brother.

"So, brother, I see that your aim is as good as always."

Faramir shifted his eyes from side to side, as if trying to determine his brother's angle of attack, and then escape it.

"You know, mother always predicted that you would be the prize archer of Gondor. She was right, wasn't she."

Faramir's cheeks flushed. The mention of their mother, Lady Finduilas, always had this affect on him.

"Mother always favored you. My memories of her may be clouded, but I remember that well. She only laughed when you managed to chuck your newest toy into her favorite vase. I got sent to Father if I even dreamed to commit such a crime." Boromir chuckled. "She recognized talent when she saw it. You're just like her, you know?" Boromir leaned forward, cupping his little brother's hands in his. "Don't take Father's words to heart." He returned to his seat as the waitress returned with their drinks. He nodded his thanks, flipping her a coin.

Boromir took a sip from his mug and winced. "Rat's Tail" certainly didn't hold back when they brewed. "So, Faramir," he rasped, "do you often pay attention to what Father says? Last I checked, we only paid attention to the Steward of Gondor when he was sending us out on a detail or giving us our allowances."

Faramir chuckled. "Last time I spoke with Nestadren, he suggested I pay more attention to the wisdom my venerable father has to offer."

Boromir, caught in the middle of a long swig, nearly choked. "Now you're taking that old crow's advice?" His eyes grew wide and he looked around fearfully, as if the head healer of his scorn could be present at that moment. Boromir thanked the gods that no one seemed to have noticed his outburst and that, most mercifully, the 'old crow' was not present.

Faramir smiled. "I didn't see the harm in listening to Father's 'wisdom' once in a while. Unfortunately, I chose the wrong while for my once."

"You know," Boromir said softly, "you remind Father of Mother. Your face, your voice, your mind…Mother loved the more gentle aspects of life, just as you do. I think that Father sometimes fears that you will slip away from him, just as Mother did. Maybe, he thinks, if he is hard enough on you, he can keep you safe."

Faramir shook his head vehemently. "I would never leave Father, whether by my own choice or not! I love him to much to walk away from him."

"Mother loved Father too," Boromir reminded his brother. "But she, too, kept her fears inside her. She didn't let her hurts go, and that is what killed her. Don't do that to yourself."

A tear slipped down Faramir's cheek. "Do you ever wonder if it was your fault? That she died?" At the frown that settled on Boromir's face, Faramir continued. "I didn't want to go inside. Nanny couldn't convince me to come down from the tree, so Mother came out to get me. It was raining so hard, and it was so cold. She didn't come outside after that day."

Boromir reached his hand out and rested it on his brother's smaller, paler hand. "What was the one thing Mother always taught us? She said that it was pointless to cry over what has happened. She told us that nothing we did could prevent the inevitable. At least she was able to say good-bye."

Faramir looked up at his brother. "You didn't kill her."

"No," Boromir shook his head. "But neither did you. Do you want to know what killed her? It was this city. This dead, stone tomb. Mother was always so alive; especially when we went to visit Grandfather at the sea house. She wasn't meant to survive in the strict lifestyle of the city. It wasn't you."

The two brothers sat in silence as the world rolled past them. The fire dwindled low in the hearth, and the tavern guests began to trickle out. The third hour would soon sound. The barkeeper, a short, squat, greasy man, emerged from behind his stockade and began to clear plates and mugs from the tables. A tavern wench rekindled the fire as the first signs of life entered the streets of Minas Tirith.

Faramir's face was wet with tears when Boromir looked back up at him. Boromir was glad. Faramir had been for too long a tower of wounded silence. It was good to release the unhealthy emotions. Mother had always supported an open emotion policy, and Boromir supposed she had been right. Already, Faramir seemed to resemble more closely the little brother and less the stoic stranger.

Boromir stood and reached out his arm for his brother. Faramir stood, a mere forearm's width between the two. On an impulse, Boromir engulfed his smaller brother in a giant hug. The two stood in the empty tavern for several minutes before pulling apart.

Faramir offered Boromir a tremulous smile. "Thank-you," he whispered, then cleared his throat, as if embarrassed by his show of emotions.

Boromir playfully and gently cuffed Faramir on the head. "Silly goose," he chided. "You don't need to try to pretend around me. You fail miserably, anyways. I can always tell what you're feeling."

Faramir raised one eyebrow. "Really?" he asked.

"Of course," Boromir shrugged. "After all, you're my brother."


End file.
